


God & Witnesses

by LaughableLament



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (if you're into that), Age Play, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bottom Sam, Canon-Typical Violence, Community: spn_j2_xmas, Crack, Fix-It, Gift Fic, Implied Past Underage, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Oral Sex, Roleplay, Samulet, Season/Series 11, Top Dean, Virginity Kink, Weddings, Wish Fulfillment, brief scene of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:25:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8924095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughableLament/pseuds/LaughableLament
Summary: AU after 11x19. Sam and Dean decide to pledge their souls to one another before the big duel with the Darkness. Nothing fancy, just a couple of friends and a Kansas courthouse. What could possibly go weird?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nisaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nisaki/gifts).



> Dear **[swan_song21](http://swan-song21.livejournal.com/)** , Thank you for the most delicious idea! I hope this shameless wish fulfillment is some of what you fancied. Merry everything! ~_^
> 
> Also, let us thank mighty beta **[crowroad](http://archiveofourown.org/users/crowroad)** , for saving a chunk of smut from the dustbin. All messiness is all mine.

_Up against good, evil, angels, devils, destiny, and God himself, they made their own choice. They chose family._ -The Winchester Gospels

**⁂**

Bedsprings creak as Dean kneels, worms two fingers in his brother’s snoring mouth. Sam’s lashes flutter and Dean pushes down on his tongue. “Get ’em wet.”

Sam pulls a knee to his chest, grunts but he opens easy. Dean dips inside, pets over the rim. Cool dribble of lube and Sam chop-moans. Writhes down on Dean’s hand.

“Like this?” Dean snakes his fingers.

Sam convulses. “Nuh-uh.” Grunts, “With you,” Dean slips all the way out, jams back in, “in me.”

Dean wastes no time in obliging. Sam rolls onto his back and Dean works him the rest of the way open on his dick. Sammy sweats and wiggles and cusses. Eggs him on, _more, more_ , so fuckin’ greedy, leaking all over himself. Dean hooks him behind the knees, Sam bucks and squeezes. Dean goes light-headed in his brother’s heat.

Sam takes it so pretty. Chin tucked to his chest and hair stuck to his face. Rolls up and fucks Dean right from the bottom. Blows, finally, not a hand on him and Dean goes right after. Sex-shot, sappy eyes flick up and _Fuck Amara. She ain’t got the first idea about bound._

Out in the motel lot’s parked a Honda, old-school tin cans and _Just Married_ scrawled in shoe polish. This soon after Jessie and Cesar? It’s a sign. “Y’know…” Dean jerks his chin. “We could do that.”

“Do what?”

“Get hitched.”

Same time Sam asks, “Get married?”

Dean shrugs, sits down and fires the motor. Sam hesitates. Sweet door-framed crotch shot but Dean can smell the thinking smoke from the driver’s side. He shakes his head, cranks up a tape.

Sammy eyes him—un-fuckin’-sneakily—rest of the day.

*

“I’s serious,” Dean pants, tongue in the cut of Sam’s hip. “We could— _should_ get hitched.” Hard hands circle soft over abs and ribs. “Tried gettin’ on one knee but you see how that turned out.”

Sam snorts. “And the part where it’s all fake, what? Doesn’t matter? Because, any one of: _wanted_ , _dead_ , or _brothers_ pretty mu—”

“Okay, smartass, I get your point.”

“So how come?”

“I wanna say the words, Sam.” _You’re my eternity._ “In front of God and witnesses.”

“Even though, we know for a fact, God isn’t paying attention. Also, what witnesses? Amara has Cas, all our other friends are—”

“Homeless guys! Chicks we meet at the bar! It doesn’t matter!” Dean pauses to kiss up Sam’s chest. “Because,” licks salty lips, “next case we catch, if she’s behind it…” Dean huffs. “Hell, she could decide right now she’s had enough, come after me, and you’re my only—”

Sam shrinks. “You want me to marry you to help you fight Amara?”

“No!” Dean winces. Studies the folds in the covers. “Look. It’s like… The more she talks about us being,” swallow, “together forever, the more I’m like… No.” He forces his eyes up. “’Cause that’s you, Sammy.”

Sam has the nerve to look like that thought hadn’t occurred to him.

“This job, you oughta know, man. Rituals… Words…” Flush heats his face. “I thought you’d be into this. If you don’t want to, don’t want—”

“I want to,” Sam breathes, palms Dean’s cheek. “Okay.”

*****

“—and they sing and dance and love. And above all they never give up!” Metatron turns his back. “But you do.”

Chuck keeps typing.

“You know what I miss most about being an angel?”

“Wings, immortality, near-infinite—”

“Hearing their prayers.”

“Get outta here.”

“They, tell their stories when they pray.” He’s got one play left. “C’mon. How about a little PTV? For old time’s sake?”

Chuck waves a hand and screens appear. “If you ask me, they’re all reruns.”

*

“God? I…” Sam kneels next to his bed, bent neck, folded hands. “I know this is a colossal waste of time, but. I’m marrying Dean today and this, this is what you do. You ask God for his blessing.”

Dean keeps walking. Shuts himself in his room.

“Cas, I…” He knits his fingers, knuckles pale. “I realize there’s like zero chance you got your ears on. I dunno how much Big L keeps you awake for, or, if you can even lock onto prayers when you’re… Y’know… Well…

“Listen, man, me and Sam. We’re about to get hitched, and you oughta know, you should be here. I’m gonna miss you, buddy.”

*

Charlie gets a Skype request, which is weird because Windows 95 doesn’t have Skype. Curious, she clicks, “Carver Edlund?”

“Uh, please.” A sheepish grin. “Just call me Chuck.”

“Chuck.”

“You know Sam and Dean.”

She nods. “I… do…”

“Funny you should put it like that…”

*

“Where, are they!?” Palm to his chest Amara ignites Lucifer’s Grace. Fire to shame Gehenna roars through his vessel’s cells.

“You won’t believe me!” Screams fall to hysterics. “ _I_ don’t believe it,” Lucifer laughs. “They _know_ you’re doing God-knows-what to their pal Castiel here.”

“Don’t use that name.”

“And Dean?” He balls his fists, “ _Prayed_ to my brother, invited him, even though, hello!” Points at his meatsuit, best he can with his wrists bound.

Amara lifts her hands. Sparks crack from her fingers and Lucifer’s flesh boils. Hairs singe away. “Where?!”

“Smith County Courthouse, Kansas,” he groans.

“What’s changed?” She squints. “Why cooperate?”

Lucifer grinds his teeth; old comfortable rage percolates his guts. “Sam wants to pledge his soul to that, silverback…” He spits blood. “I’ll _help_ you wreck the place.”

*

Sam finds Dean in the kitchen, finishing up with a sharp-pressed button-down.

“Oh, perfect. We're gonna—”

Dean backs away, pulls a face…

Sam sniffs. “Dude! Quit ironing my shirts with beer!”

Dean cackles and bolts.

*

Jody Mills shoots an eyebrow at her fritzing radio.

“Okay, don’t freak out.”

She holds the road, no thanks to—

“Charlie Bradbury,” outta-nowhere, sticks out her hand. “We never met but I know all about you.”

“Likewise.” Jody shakes. “So what fresh Hell have _you_ brought to my door?” _And just in time to wreck the boys’ big day._

Charlie grins. “Quite the opposite, actually. I’m here,” she slips sunglasses on, “on a mission from God.”

*

“Hang on. Stop here.”

Dean pulls up to the convenience store and Sam gets out. Comes back with two half-droopy roses in plastic sleeves.

“You’re shittin’ me.”

“Shut up.” Sam deploys the dimples, carves a pair of boutonnieres.

*

Chinese food steams in boxes and Charlie looks over Chuck’s guest list. “I have a question.” She’ll say this for his extra-dimensional Godcave, the spring rolls are excellent. “All these…” she wrinkles her nose, “beings. We’re just gonna, what? Snatch ’em out of their lives or afterlives and, dress ’em up and drop ’em in church?”

“I was thinking swanky Vegas casino chapel.” Chuck shoves a wad of noodles in his mouth.

“Missing the point,” Charlie says. “Where’s everybody gonna sit? Not like there’s a bride’s side-groom’s side.”

“Mm.” Chuck nods. “And you can’t do Heaven-Hell either.”

“Because, Purgatory.”

“And also,” chopsticks flick, back and forth, “which brother goes where?”

“Harsh.”

“I got it,” Jody jumps in. “Everybody sit, as far away as you can, from anyone might want to kill you, personally or instinctively.”

“I like it,” Chuck says.

“And I tell you what. Loop in Donna Hanscum, give us some angel muscle, we’ll run crowd control.”

“Ladycop ushers,” Charlie mumbles. “That’s so freakin’ hot.”

*

They look sharp: Fed threads, open collars and no ties.

“No, Dean, for fuck’s sake. Not even a pocketknife.”

Sam sticks out his hand and Dean coughs up his last sharp.

“Can’t believe I gotta roll in there naked.”

“Nothing that would kill us would ever come looking here.”

Fuck Sam when he’s reasonable. “’S the principle.”

“We doing this?” Sam smiles, little crinkle above his nose.

“Yeah, yeah.”

*

Jody swings into the courthouse lot and grins. Boys dappered up, even put on roses. “Hey, fellas, wait up!”

Dean catches sight of her and, “Damn, Sheriff, you really turned out for this.”

“Seriously? You are not checkin’ out my ass on your wedding day.” Charlie’d insisted on suits, _exquisitely tailored_. Jody’d picked out the heels. (Louboutin, ’cause if God’s picking up the tab…) She falls in behind their brushing shoulders, palms each brother’s back as they approach the doors.

Dean opens one, and, “What the fuck.”

Jody pastes on a smile and shoves. “Just, keep walking.” No idea what happens to anyone trying to leave by these doors at this moment.

Sam and Dean lurch forward.

*

They ain’t in Kansas anymore.

Hi-def screens scroll photos of them with _Sam and Dean, Forever_ and shit. Elvis dolls, shot glasses, and velvet paintings, 1:18 scale die cast pink Cadillacs and black Impalas, everything with _Just Married_ on it, and—

Charlie—fuckin’ Charlie—stands behind a lectern with a sonofabitchin guest book. “You bitches already got me killed,” which, she’s bein’ a hellova sport about, apparently, “sooo, you can’t kill me for this.”

Then, Alanis Morissette walks out, pokes Sam in the nose, and goes, “Boop!”

Sam’s breast pocket starts to glow, blinds Dean. And when he can see again…

Chuck. In a rhinestone bellbottomed jumpsuit, hair slicked back and puffed in the front. “I have _always_ wanted to do that!” Pumps his fist.

“What the fuck,” Dean says again, because what the fuck.

Chuck smiles. Beatific. “For this? I came out of retirement.”

*

“Uh, no ma’am,” the mouse behind the counter cowers. “No Winchesters in the system.”

“Right here, right now.” Amara slams down a hand. “Who has a scheduled wedding?”

“I probably shouldn’t—”

“Tell me!” Amara spreads her arms and blows out all the windows.

“Sam-Singer-and-Dean-Campbell. But, they never showed…”

*

Charlie reassures Dean with a pat, subtle. Ludicrous spray of flowers gives good cover.

“I-uh, didn’t think I’d have an audience when I wrote this stuff.”

Said audience snickers.

“Sammy I… Sam.” Dean stares down at the crinkled motel note he fails to hide in his palm. “My whole life. My one job. Has been, to take care of you. Watch out for you. And I…” He looks up. Flush lights the back-of-his-neck freckles. “I haven’t always pulled it off, but you…” a breath, “you always gave me another chance, man, and. As long as you keep givin’ me another chance, I’ma keep tryin’ to save you.”

“Aww,” from the house, just loud enough to make Dean bristle.

“Thank you, Dean.” Chuck nods. “Sam?”

“I also wasn’t expecting an audience,” Sam mumbles, “but… I promise I’ll stitch your cuts and set your bones. I promise I’ll pester you ’til you get your shit out in the open.” Sam ducks his head, “Sorry.”

Chuck waves him off.

“I promise I’ll eat and probably like your cooking. I promise I’ll drive your car carefully and let you know if it makes any weird sounds.”

“She, Sam.”

“She.” Sam grins, then, “I promise,” he studies Dean’s face, “I’ll never leave you.”

Charlie feels Dean rock a little.

“I promise to take on whatever comes, beside you.”

“Or cowering behind me.”

“ _Towering_ behind you.” Sam rolls his eyes and the assembly laughs. “I promise I’ll be bound to you forever.”

Charlie steadies Dean behind her bouquet.

Jody weaves around Sam to present the rings, broad bands of Enochian-etched silver.

“Tungsten!” Chuck boasts, “Virtually indestructible!”

And—

“Family, friends, et cetera, Sam and Dean Winchester!”

*

Ash drinks one to Chuck’s foresight, skippin’ the receiving line. Most everybody’d just bailed out the fire exits, into a real pretty garden all decked in lights. Scattered little buffet stations got good food and better booze. Appetizers and bubbly go around on trays and everybody keeps movin’. Smart.

Some big fella with a bayou drawl’s talkin’bout, “Yeah it’s a little odd, them bein’ brothers’nall, but I reckon—”

“Hold up.” Ash scratches his chin. “I always thought they was, y’know…” air quotes, _“‘brothers.’”_

“Naw. I’m pretty sure they’s blood kin.” The big fella points. “That right there, I think’s, their daddy.”

“Well I’ll be damned.” Ash drinks one to the boys for stickin’ it to the Man.

*

Sam Winchester, knows fear. Has known fear, the likes of which should have destroyed him but… Sam thinks he’d rather heart-to-heart with Lucifer again than face—

“If he kills us, whaddaya think are the odds Chuck gets to us before Billie?” Dean squeezes Sam’s elbow.

Dad’s at the end of the aisle. “Boys.”

“Dad.” They speak together.

“Okay.” Dean flails a hand between them. “Me and Sam, this…”

“Isn’t what it looks like?” Dad almost grins. “Because, it looks like you just married your brother.”

Dean flinches. Sam starts to puff up.

“Don’t…” Dad sighs. “Chuck, kind of explained it. Said it’s a soul thing.”

_We keep each other human._

Silence drags. Hands stuff pockets all around.

“Dad?” Dean asks, “Where’s Mom?”

Dad swipes at his mouth. “She’s still in Heaven, son.”

“Good. That’s good,” Dean says, but Sam feels him sag.

“I found out some things about her, her and her family.”

“They were hunters,” Sam says.

“And Mary, she was just like you, Sam. All she ever wanted was out of the life. Her children, out of the life.” Dad slumps. “This… all this… she’s better off not—”

“Yeah.” Sam teeters.

*

“Dean is not on Earth,” Amara fumes.

“How’d he swing that, I wonder? Time travel again? There’s spells in their archive—”

“Will you be quiet?”

Lucifer finds his lips fused shut.

“My brother has done this.” Glass crunches under her feet as she stalks toward the shattered doors.

*

Dean shows teeth, accepts congratulations. Tells anybody who’ll listen, “Nobody better graffiti my car.” Fake smile helps sell the threat.

Crowley staggers past, slurs, “Lads, you shoulda told me, I’da thrown you a stag do!”

And Bobby mutters, “Alert Kentucky, the bourbon shortage is back on.”

Then, from Dean’s six, “Shame Dad didn’t invite any aliens. I’da requested some ‘Lady in Red,’ we coulda—”

“Gabriel.” Dean snaps his mouth shut.

“Who’s Gabriel?” The guy shrugs. “I’m Todd Dodson of Two Dot, Montana, and you shot me before I could turn into a skinwalker.”

“So here you are.”

“So here I am! You did me a _huuuge_ solid. Big, public spectacle of a death, saved my soul, if I’m telli—”

“I hate you.”

“Faw.” He pats Dean’s cheek. “You love me a little. ’S why you could never kill me. Well. That and you’re an idiot, but hey.”

“Sam!” Dean searches. Chuck and his fuckin’ angel security. Nobody’s gonna have a shiv. And by the time Dean turns back, Todd Dodson of Two Dot Montana is long gone. “Son of a bitch.”

*

Chuck sees Sam scan the garden for the fiftieth time. Eyes land on Chuck for the hundred-and-fiftieth time and dart away. Chuck corners him.

“What’s on your mind, Sam?”

Sam’s face loses all color.

“It’s okay. It’s just like praying, except,” Chuck lifts his glass, “there’s booze.”

Sam’s throat works and he takes a breath. “Okay, first off, thank you, because, this is great. All of it. And, I really appreciate. Everything. But, I wondered… You couldn’t, uh. Spring Adam from the Cage for this?”

“Sam,” Chuck smiles. “Adam’s soul went back to Heaven when Castiel Molotoved Michael. The question was whether he’d _want_ to come see his stranger brothers, who got him killed twice, get married.”

Sam grimaces. “I’m guessing no.”

Chuck pats Sam’s arm. “I’m proud of you for thinking of him. You’re a good man, Sam.” _But something else._ Chuck squints. “Jessica. She’s okay too, you know.”

Sam steps back, stammers. Chuck reaches out—

“Hey you all right, Sammy?” Dean appears, and—

Light. Rips into the space, door-shapes blown off hinges.

“Oh, crap.” Chuck can’t help himself; he hides behind Dean.

Amara strides through the garden. Lucifer, choke-chained in Castiel’s vessel, crawls behind.

“Brother.”

“Sister,” Chuck squeaks.

“We need to talk.”

*

Lucifer’s shackles chafe and Castiel wails in his head: _Oh Dean, I’m so so sorry,_ _I couldn’t stop him_ and _blah blah blah._

Gusts of wind slam doors and Amara bellows, “Nobody leaves!” She closes on Dean. “You betrayed me,” incredulous. “Bound yourself to… another.” Bare glance for Sam and she spins.

_Are those, tears?_

“And _you._ ” She points at Dad. “Nothing to say?” Shoes whisper over the cobblestones, gown billows. Amara seizes Lucifer’s collar and tosses him forward. “Not for the son you abandoned? The twin you imprisoned?”

“Uh… n-not really?”

“Bastard!” Amara lifts her hands. “I meant to spare you, Dean.” Swirls of power radiate. “Be with you for all time, but now…” Smoke tendrils rise from her skirt. “You’ve left me no cause to spare anything!”

Sam tugs Dean’s sleeve. Dean yells, “Amara, wait!”

She gives them a look that could gut a fish.

“You don’t really want this.” Dean squirms. “You been in my head, pretty much this whole year,” he admits, “and I know…”

_Is it just me or is Sam barely keeping a grip on him?_

“…said it yourself. You got no beef with his creation.”

“And-uh, actually,” Sam breaks in, “I don’t think either one of you’s gonna like this, but… the way I see it, this, universe?” Sam looks around. “Is as much Amara’s doing as it is Chuck’s.”

_Great. Now Dad’s gonna be pissed too._

“Just, hear me out, okay?” Sam asks. “It’s a straight line from Amara, to the Mark, to Lucifer, to the Fall. Am I right?”

“Well, yeah,” Dad says.

“And without that, this. Free Will you invented, wouldn’t mean anything.”

Amara blinks, maybe half-steps back.

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Chuck, gave us a choice, but you…” He turns to her, tongue flashes across his lips. “You showed us what we could do with it.”

 _Castiel!_ Lucifer chides. _He’s a married man!_

*

Dean breathes. Amara seems to have chilled on the smiting thing, for now. Sam’s grip anchors him against her. “Look.” He steps aside, exposes Chuck. “You been tryin’ to get his attention for months. And right here he is, so… what do you wanna say to him?”

Amara stiffens. “I spent millions of years, crammed in that cage, because of you!” She wheels. “And what was my crime, brother?”

Chuck balls his fists. “The world needed to be born, Amara! You wouldn't let me!”

“That’s your story.”

“You gave me no choice—”

“Gave me no choice,” Lucifer mimics. Then, “ _Everything_ is a tautology with him. I coulda told you, auntie. There’s no—”

“Why are you talking?” Amara asks, and, “Goodbye, nephew.” She flicks her wrist.

Cas kinda… bulges, jaws stretch and chest expands and he looks like he’s gonna blow there for a second and then light pours from his eyes, his mouth. He hits the deck.

“Cas?” Dean can’t risk going for him. “Somebody—”

Meg. Shoves her way to the front and kneels, holds him to her.

Amara ignores them. “You banished me because you couldn’t stand that we were equals. You needed lesser beings to make you large. To make you Lord!”

“No!” Chuck throws up his hands and lightning splits the sky. “That’s, not the whole truth.” He circles. “Amara, there’s a glory, a grace in creation that’s bigger than me. Bigger than us.” She looks at him like he’s diseased but he drifts toward her. “Since you’ve been freed, I know you've seen it.” He glances at Dean. “Felt it.”

“You don’t wanna be alone, Amara. I know you don’t.” Dean rocks into Sam’s hand, warm on his chest. “You need your brother.” Finds Sam’s eyes. “I’ve been there.”

Amara looks from Dean to Sam and back to Chuck. Wanders to the path edge. “I loved you, brother. And, I thought—I knew you loved me.”

“I did.” Chuck sighs. “I do.”

“And what you’ve made, what—we’ve made, is—beautiful.” Sad smile settles on Dean and he pitches toward her, then—

Fish off the line, he reels. Recoils into Sam, who latches on like a friggin’ squid. Dean rolls with it.

“I know we can’t go back,” Amara plucks at the honeysuckle. “But I wish…” and at last she faces Chuck, “I wish we could be family again.”

“I do too,” Chuck says.

 Dean mutters, “Worst episode of _Full House_ ever,” and Sam kicks his ankle, medium hard.

“We should probably go away for a while…”

“Hey yeah,” Sam agrees.

“Family meeting.” Dean nods.

“Go on and wait for me?” Chuck squeezes his sister’s hands. “Just a couple more things I wanna wrap up here.”

Amara dissipates; purple-black smoke swirls up and drifts.

“Never thought I’d see _you_ chick flick us out of an apocalypse.” Sam noses behind Dean’s ear.

“Fuck you.”

“You love chick flicks.”

“Yeah, I—Hey. Sam? What’s Chuck up to?”

“I don’t—”

Healing hand on Cas’s head, chains clatter and fall but Chuck never breaks stride. Skirts the dance floor toward an orchestra pit, which, Dean’s not sure was there before. Chuck points up in a couple of places, claps his hands.

 _Well._ Dean blinks. _Let there be light, I guess._

*

Rhinestones gleam in the spotlight circling Chuck and a cloud-white baby grand piano.

“What, he’s Liberace now, too?”

“Dean,” Sam nudges him. “Probably better you don’t mock God?”

“Yeah yeah.”

“You know what humanity’s greatest creation has been?” Chuck’s mic squeals and he frowns, waves a finger and taps. “There.” Soft arpeggio. “Music. That and nacho cheese.”

Angels staffing the food stations laugh politely. Dean groans as Chuck starts to sing:

 _Wise men say_  
_Only fools rush in_  
_But I can’t help—_

“Awesome.” Dean folds his arms. “Still Elvis then.”

Murmurs ripple through the garden as revelers figure out who’s playing. Angels fall to their knees, heads bowed in reverence.

“Think we should bow too?” Sam asks.

“Fuck that.” Dean shakes his head. “’S our wedding.”

_Would it be a sin_

And, like a haunting, harmony. Alto starts soft and soars, flawless.

_—falling in love with you_

Chuck grins up, blinding.

_Like a river flows_

That voice.

_Surely to the sea_

Spotlight:

_Darling so it goes_

Damn, Billie can sing.

_Some things_

“Dance with me.”

_Are meant to be_

“You’re outta your mind.”

“Everyone’s watching Chuck.”

“Sam…” None of Dean’s arguing stops him from letting Sam drag them under a weeping willow.

_Take my whole life, too_

They tussle over who’s gonna lead.

“I’m older.”

“I’m taller.”

But they work it out eventually. Dean bitches the whole time but leans into Sam, nose next to his now-crushed gas station rose.

*

Charlie waves both index fingers. “No, no, no.”

Pamela hands out lemon drops and Shock Tops. “Yes yes yes.”

Charlie follows her gaze to the brothers, half-tucked behind a tree. “Are they, dancing?”

“Think so,” Jo says

and Pamela adds, “Sam’s leading.”

They burst into giggles.

“We never stood a chance,” Jo complains and raises her glass.

“Nope.” Pamela clinks and extends to Charlie. “Still didn’t save us.”

“And ain’t that a bitch?” Charlie leads the shot, grinds her teeth in the sugary lemon.

“We saved the world, though.” Jo looks around. “I mean, all of us.”

“Right?” Pamela nods.

Charlie blinks. In the scramble of planning a wedding she hadn’t thought about…

“My mom,” Jo points, “is drinking with the King of Hell.”

*

_Take my hand_

Kevin can’t take his eyes off her, whoever she is. Must have serious juice, busting into God’s solo like that. Verse ends and she leaves her spot…

Reaper.

“Ms. Tran.”

Prophet-sense, or dead-guy-dar, or something…

“Kevin.” She nods. “Name’s Billie. You know why I’m here.”

Mom clings to him, hides tears in his shoulder.

“I love you, Mom. You’ll be okay now. You can move on too.”

She shakes her head but smiles. “Thank you, Billie.”

“Thank me?”

“Never thought I’d hold my son again.” She squeezes. “Never mind give him a decent goodbye…”

“Come on, kid.” Billie sticks out an arm. “You've been in the Veil long enough. Time you had an upgrade.” She leads him toward a column of light, gold and blue and swirling with power.

*

 _loooooovvvvve_  
_wiiiiiiith_  
_yooooouuuuu_

Nearly the whole assembly has joined in the drunken refrain. Castiel squirms, loose-skinned, alone. Dean and Sam sway together, unaware of well-wishing eyes, whispers and elbows. Castiel smiles.

His father plays on under, “Everybody, Sam and Dean!”

Whistles and cheers and the brothers separate. Sam ducks his head but Dean postures. Slaps Sam on the rear. “C’mon, Sammy. I need a drink.”

“If you’ll all check your pockets, handbags, saddlebags, whatever…”

Castiel searches his coat, finds a tiny champagne bottle, corked with a bubble wand and labeled, “Winchester.”

“Let’s give the guys a proper send-off, huh?”

 _This,_ Castiel thinks, _is why Heaven abandoned family dinners._

*

“We really gotta do this?”

“Yes, Dean,” Charlie fusses. “Jesus Christ you’re the butch Bridezilla.”

“Easy!”

Guests form up in two lines, bubble wands at the ready.

“Just head through those doors and wait for me. Chuck’s got you all set up but there’s, instructions.”

“Of course there are,” Dean grumbles.

Charlie shoves him and ducks to the side. No way she’s going down that gauntlet. She’s got a blonde _and_ a brunette on the line and she’s ready to wrap up her best man duties like now.

“Darlin’ Charlie.” Annnnd Rowena’s in her face. Praising the food, the venue, the waiters’ bowties… “I hear you’re God’s right-hand. Well done, you!” like they’re old friends.

Charlie nods and uh-huhs and finally ditches her. Slips through the gift shop—which, _cute, Chuck_ —and finds the hallway empty. “Dammit guys…” Into the house and she freezes. “Whoa.”

Dean has Sam smashed against a wall, kissing the daylights out of him. Dean’s making these, growly sounds and Sam slides, knees visibly failing. Dean grabs the back of Sam’s neck and halfway throws him into the bedroom. Follows, unclasping his belt.

Charlie breathes when he shuts the door. Fans her flushed neck and starts searching: pen, Post-its. Even God’s gotta have a junk drawer.

 _Stay until you get bored. Fridge is magical._ Winky smile. _Go home thru the toolshed behind the garage._

Random thumps and voices. Charlie sticks the note to the beer.

*

Dean’s eyes flutter and he wallows in king-size, thread-count bliss. Sun streams through massive windows; bacon and coffee call to him like brains to a zombie. Duffle on the dresser. Dean rolls out and grabs the first sweats he sees. Sam’s, how they ride his ass and pool at his ankles. _Lanky fucker._

Sam stands over a narrow stove, post-run, tank top and shorts still damp in places. Beams to his back teeth. “You’re not gonna believe this place.”

Dean rubs his eyes; new ring weighs unfamiliar. “What’s so great about it?” Everything, best he can see. Comfy couches, huge TV. Woods, looks like, past the lace-draped windows. Light play says there’s water out there.

“Check this out.” Sam spins a tablet and a cup of coffee across the kitchen island.

“What’s this?” Dean taps. “An e-reader?”

“Except,” Sam scoops bacon out of a skillet, “it downloads real books, to that shelf over there.”

“Dude. Again with the Harry Potter?” All seven, hardcover and pristine. “ _Key of Solomon?_ Oh, and _The Epic of Gilgamesh,_ what the Hell, Sam.”

“I was testing it!” Sam squawks but grins. “Runs the TV and stereo too.”

“So, what. We got the whole Library of Congress here?”

“I bet we have the Library of Alexandria here.”

“Awesome,” Dean gripes. “Am I gonna get laid at all on this vacation?”

Sam wipes his hands and advances. “What. Last night and twice this morning don’t count?”

“Twice?”

Sam answers that by shoving him down on the couch and blowing him ’til he blacks out a little. Breakfast is still piping hot when they’re done. Fuckin’ Chuck thought of everything.

*

Last rays of sunset warm Sam’s neck, bent over a book with his feet up. Fridge door bangs and Dean dangles a beer in his face. Sam makes room and Dean perches beside him.

“You ever gonna tell me about this?” Open fist and Dean’s old bullhorned amulet hangs between them.

Sam inhales. Three days in, he was starting to think Dean’s ignore-it instinct was gonna get him off the hook. “At the time,” he’s practiced this, “I thought I could get your trust back enough that you’d want it again. But then I was soulless, and then crazy, and then sick from the Trials, and the longer it went on the bigger a deal it turned into, and I thought, you’re marrying me. It’s now or never.”

“Oh, great, still with the Elvis.” Good sign, Dean deflecting.

“If you don’t want it back I—”

“Sammy. I told you before. I don’t need a symbol to remind me how I feel about you. And besides…” He waggles his left ring finger.

“Wait.” Sam squints. “When did you tell me you don’t need a symbol?”

“Back in Michigan, y’member? At that high sch—oh crap, you know what I think I said that to the other Sam.”

“Other—you mean Marie?” Choke-laugh. “You confused me with a fourteen-year-old girl.”

“It’s the hair, Sam. And the ponies.”

“Dude, lots of adults have seen _Friendship is Magic_.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Twilight Sparkle.”

“My point.” Sam bumps their knees.

Dean flips the charm in the air. “Why don’t you keep it.”

“Dean?” Sam catches overhand.

“God was always more your thing than mine. And anyway, I had it, what. Eighteen years? Still _way_ your turn.”

Sam nods. Dean’s stopped, decorating himself like he used to. Dad’s coat, Mom’s ring, Sam’s…

“Put it with the wooden one,” he says.

Sam hopes, it’s because he doesn’t define himself against them like he used to.

“Confuse the hell out of an archaeologist someday.”

Sam swings across Dean’s lap. “Not yet.” He opens the loop, shows Dean his tongue. “For tonight?”

Dean smirks. “Like old times, huh?” Ducks his head, lets Sam settle the brass against his chest.

Sam finger-traces the features. “Like the first time.”

*

Dean’s grown-ass little brother curls up in his lap and does this eye thing. Puppy-adjacent but so, so dirty Dean’s toes curl.

“I’m not a kid anymore.” Zippers brush.

“Fuckin’-a you ain’t.” Palms scrape back pockets.

“You’re not gonna hurt me.” Almost a kiss, on the _me._

“Never, Sammy.”

“So… Make me yours.”

Dean flips Sam, dives for a money spot under his ear and Sam grinds them together. “This is okay, right?” Sam pulls back and _there’s_ the puppy thing.

“Yeah, Sammy.” Smile breaks, maybe a flick of an eye-roll. “I’m good pervin’ on poppin’ your cherry.” Dean strips his shirt, threads his amulet through the neckhole. Sam licks lips and Dean wags an eyebrow. “’S fuckin’ hot, right?”

Teeth and dimples. Sam tows him down, hips climb his thighs. Fist balls around that old brass god like life itself.

“You gotta be good for me.” Dean jacks Sam through his blue jeans, palms his balls. “Cause I’m gonna take my time on you, little brother.” Bratty whimper makes his cock jump. “Come on.” He stands. “Ain’t doin’ this on the couch.”

*

Sam claws, kisses wet-mouthed, amulet bites between their chests.

“Want you to come on my hand.”

“No.” Sam pushes. “No, I want—”

“It’ll go easier on you, all fucked out and relaxed.”

“Dean…”

“C’mon, Sammy.” Dean curls over him, breathes in his ear, “Little virgins get off three, four times in a night, you remember?”

Sam shudders. “Somebody’s confident.”

Dean grins. Crow’s feet, tip of his tongue and Sam stares. _Everything we’ve been through and you’ve got smile lines…_

“Lemme see you lose it for me.”

Sam nods, snakes a hand in, jerks against Dean’s middle.

Dean fills him up. “Gonna make this so good for you, Sammy, gonna ruin you for every other dick but mine forever.” 

 _God, and he really_ _did._

“—mine forever you hear me?” 

Dean skates his prostate and Sam comes, hips in the air and Dean’s name in his mouth. Tears slip his eyes at the corners.

*

“You're the best friend we’ve ever had.” Sam says.

“You’re our brother, Cas.” Dean turns onto the drive leading down to the Bunker. “I want you to know that.”

“Thank you.” Cas puts one of those soul-stares on him in the rearview.

Dean slings gravel, laughs wide. He’s missed his Baby.

Sam asks, “Cas? Did you really just stand by the car this whole time?”

“It was less than two days.”

Dean blinks. Lost track of how long they’d hung around Chuck’s crib, but it had to have pushed two weeks.

“I witnessed a number of guests attempting an act of vandalism. And some of your… associates are known for persistence.”

“See?” Dean points. “That’s respect!” He rolls to a stop. “All right, you two, go on. Get Netflix started up while I make a supply run.”

Sam and Cas head inside.

First stop, PO box. Mixed with the junk addressed to his various fake ID’s, Dean finds a black card, single fold, silver text:

_Dean, you gave me what I needed most. I want to do the same for you. –A_

_Well that can’t be good._ Dean heads back toward the car and bumps into a woman on the sidewalk. Barefoot. White nightgown and long blonde…

“Mom? Uh. Uh, Mary?”

“How do you—?” Subtle combat stance. “Who are you?”

“I, I can explain that? Just, how bout we go to my car?”

“You’re joking.”

“Look. Here. I’ll… I’ll give you my keys. That way I can’t drive off with you, and there’s tons of witnesses here, and…”

She takes the keys and keeps a wary eye on him. Dean works over how much he should tell her. Phone rings and he’s all set to ignore it, but, Cas…

“My husband,” Mary circles the Impala, “drives a car just like this.”

“Dean, Sam’s in trouble.”

Dean rubs his forehead. “Ain’t we freakin’ all?”

*

**Author's Note:**

> Swan_song21's original prompt:  
> Sam and Dean decide to get married quietly, but it gets out of hand and EVERYBODY is there (Angels, demons, their friends' ghosts) extra points for Chuck marrying them himself (hence why the friends are there?) Idk. I somehow imagine cas knowing and telling everyone in heaven..lol imagine their parents though XD 
> 
> P.S. I will gift this work to you, if you don't mind sharing your AO3 handle. ♥


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